


Inside A Scarred Colossus

by FiliTheLionKing (IAmYourWatson)



Category: Being Human (UK), Pacific Rim (2013), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Ghost Drifting, Idiots in Love, Jaeger Pilots, K-Science Dorks, Love in wartime, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, Supernatural Elements, This won't totally follow the movie but will have elements of it in there, Vampires and Werewolves and Ghosts and Gods and Aliens Oh My!, sort of, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourWatson/pseuds/FiliTheLionKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first kaiju made landfall in the year 2013. Mankind had to quickly cope with the fact that we are not alone in the universe. A few years later, humanity has put its faith in giant metal soldiers, and although life is spent in a state of constant alert, humanity begins to do what it does best and settles in to survive. But it turns out that we were never alone in the universe in the first place. Humanity already had monsters living right next door: the supernaturals and the gods. </p><p>Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, gods; a whole slew of mythical beings that turned out to be not-so-mythical after all. Soon enough it became commonplace to see a vampire training a new batch of PPDC recruits, or a ghost exploring the latest kaiju corpse, or the god of builders leading the ground crews in repairing a Mark II Jaeger. It seemed like humanity had found its balance again, and with their new allies by their sides, they'd fight off the alien scourge. Maybe, just maybe, we could win this war.</p><p>And then we started losing."</p><p>-- A History of the Kaiju War So Far</p><p>Here follows the story of two Jaeger pilots, Anders and Mitchell, and how they fought the Kaiju War and won something for themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brieft history of the Kaiju War so far...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here I go, starting another looooong epic that will take forever to finish! Please bear with me, as reality is a bitch and it'll take me a long time to do anything, as I'm sure you guys already know. I love Pacific Rim and Britchell, and it just kind of struck me in the face that I haven't seen a Britchell/Pacific Rim crossover in a long time, so I figured, why not? As always, comments and critiques make me smile brighter than Otachi's glow!

When the first kaiju attacked, the world was unprepared.

When it was defeated, the world thought it was safe again.

The world was wrong.

So the world began preparing to fight these strange monsters from the deep, proposing such once-outlandish ideas as the Jaeger Program. But as they were debating, something else came to light, a set of monsters different but no less deadly than the kaiju: the supernaturals.

You see, if the kaiju destroyed the whole world, what would happen to the ghosts, vampires, and werewolves? The witches and spirits and all kinds of strange things would either be permanently dead or doomed to wander a wasteland full of aliens and decay.

So the world, already used to having its illusions shattered, wearily accepted that not only were we not alone in the universe, but that every scary story you ever heard was also horrifyingly true. And the world sighed, set some ground rules for the supernaturals, and invited them join in humanity’s last stand. 

Soon the world realized that having supernaturals at humanity’s side was more than just some extra manpower; it was a boon of strength and knowledge. Creatures once relegated to the dark corners of the earth became your next-door neighbor, sharing food (although not always the same _kind_ of food) with you and becoming your coffee run partner. Scientists were able to mine the compounded knowledge of races who’d spent centuries observing the world and becoming geniuses in their own right. And two hands are better than one when it comes to building, and who could turn down the extra laborers now that half the world was too scared to do anything but cower and hide? The Jaeger Academy and the PPDC began creating new units and divisions to accommodate the sudden influx of recruits and workers.

Vampires, with their supernatural strength, reflexes, and extraordinary healing abilities, were immediately put into the pilot training programs, sometimes paired with humans, other times with other vampires. While drifting as a vampire was difficult, with their long and crystal-clear memories to haunt them, they proved resilient and are legendary for being among the best pilots ever. Most vampires would learn to subsist on animal blood, but as the war went on the scientists and doctors of the PPDC would develop a psuedo-synthetic blood so close to human blood that it became easier for vampires to see their fellow pilots and crew as people, not snacks. 

Werewolves, strong and wild, were often encouraged to join the pilot programs as well, but more often than not they’d join the ground crews, the builders and the welders, the ones responsible for making and maintaining the Jaegers. Unlike vampires, who were constantly supernatural, werewolves changed once a lunar cycle, and most agreed that this rapid change and duality of nature could negatively affect a drift. A good grouping of werewolves found themselves in the LOCCENT as well, proving to be good communicators and coordinators with the pack mentality aiding their cohesiveness. 

Ghosts were difficult to place, since many were only there for a short period of time to finish their unsolved business. Still, it was discovered that ghosts were not only perfect for reconnaissance (since it was discovered that kaiju can’t see them), they were also incapable of being harmed by the nuclear reactors found at the heart of most Jaegers. This made them ideal for observing for damage to the cores of Jaegers recently returned from battle. K-Science also found itself full of ghosts when it was also discovered that the spirits could wade or walk through untreated kaiju blue without being harmed. They could describe and catalogue things about intact (or fairly intact) kaiju bodies that the scientists could never dream of doing. 

All other supernaturals found their places as well, like witches becoming integral to the medical wards of Shatterdomes, and a harmony unheard of before formed between man and monster. After all, it’s easy to be human when the world is threatened. Everyone worked together to save a planet on the brink of destruction, and while it wasn’t the best of circumstances, it was all they had. Humanity and its allies began to win, the kaiju more easily beaten, and Jaeger pilot applications were at an all-time high. It wasn’t until this time, a few years into the kaiju war, that a final form of “supernatural” was found, although they were less supernatural and more divine. 

Gods and goddesses were discovered after a man named Jack, who turned out to be the Greek god Apollo, joined the PPDC and became a Jaeger pilot. He managed to hide his identity through all of his test drifts, until he was finally paired with his co-pilot, a woman named Graciela. When they first drifted together, she found out his true nature. He’d grown rather fond of her, and instead of letting the psych team think she’d gone mad from the strain, he exposed the whole network of gods and goddesses, most of whom had realized long before this that the cat would soon be out of the bag. It took a little doing, but once the PPDC was assured through various demonstrations that yes, the gods' vessels _do_ powers of their own, just muted, the ranks of the PPDC began filling with this final form of supernatural.

And so the pantheons of the world, or rather, their mortal vessels, joined the growing fight against the alien invaders from the deep. Soon it became common to see a centuries-old vampire having high tea with a human, a werewolf, and the goddess of the hearth. Gods and goddesses would prove to be incredibly versatile, fitting into different areas of the PPDC depending on their powers. All the deities of healing, for example, became excellent medics, while gods and goddesses of war became top Jaeger pilots known for the bravery and skill. Deities of intelligence and strategy, games and power found a new home in the LOCCENT or as high-ranking officers. And gods like Hephaestus and other builders and creators like him were almost literally worshipped on the building floors of the Jaeger factories and Shatterdomes. 

The war was at its peak. It looked like Earth was winning. The kaiju could be stopped, it seemed, with a strong metal arm and the cunning of all the races of the Earth behind it. People began to tentatively relax, falling into a routine, believing that a new world had settled in, one of monsters both alien and terrestrial. Sure, the war might last forever, perhaps humanity and supernaturals alike would be forever on their guard, but it was survival, a survival that was quickly becoming something more like living and thriving. Society regained its footing, and perhaps, just perhaps, the world would survive, and maybe the kaiju would just stop coming.

They were wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, this is an original title. I own nothing, although I wish I had my own personal Anders and Mitchell! ;)


	2. Past Imperfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vampire and a god walk into a Shatterdome...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's chapter two! I hope you like it. This one delves into the boys' pasts before they meet up in Anchorage for the first time...whoops gave away something. Oh well, you'd find out anyways...
> 
> Not beta read, so any mistakes are all mine. I'll re-read it again tomorrow to double check. Comments and critiques make my life complete~!

Vampires are used to seeing blood, and lots of it. Seas of red run through their visions as what passes for dreams flow through a vampire's senses when they try to sleep. For most, it is a pleasant feeling, but for those who can remember what it was like to be human, it is a far too real nightmare. But this, this was different. This was a different kind of pool of blood, a real sea. A sea of blue that stretched as far as the eye could see: kaiju blue. The blood of aliens, blood that vampires could never hoped to drink (and some had tried, to much discomfort and pain as their bodies failed to process it and rejected the fluid). Even after it was neutralized, vampires dared not go near it, because even alien blood could be tempting after a long dry spell from fresh blood. 

Mitchell was one of those vampires that had clawed his way from the dark depths before the Kaiju War began and embraced what was left of his humanity. He and some like him had already been living clean, so switching to the synthetic blood provided by the PPDC wasn't much of a stretch. In fact, it was even better, giving them the sustenance they craved while keeping them from killing more innocent people. So when he saw the pools of kaiju blue, he didn't retch, nor did he want to drink it. He simply walked around it and made his way back to his Shatterdome. 

John Mitchell had been born in the late 19th century. He wasn't the oldest vampire to ever enter the Jaeger program, but he certainly wasn't the youngest. He'd seen two world wars, countless smaller but no less deadly wars, and survived them all. Cold wars were a break for him, really, since there was little chance of major bloodsheds acting as a beacon to him and his kind. This war, though, was nowhere near cold. It was as hot as the depths of hell, although for once in his long lifetime, the enemy wasn't other humans. It was something beyond even his comprehension.

After the attack on San Francisco, he came to grips with the fact that science fiction was becoming science fact. After Manila, he began to fear for the world and his place in it; it was the most he'd truly cared for humanity since his turning, even with his change to clean living. After the first Jaeger killed a kaiju, he knew what he had to do.

Vampires gathered, conferred, and agreed for once in their long and bloody lives: the fate of the world was more important than secrecy, and they could always deal with the fallout later. They were good at that, acting first and running from the consequences later. So they, along with other supernaturals, revealed themselves. Mitchell was among the first delegation to the humans, his place as King of the United Kingdom covens (a hard-earned position, one that he still maintained to this day) confirming his place within that first group. Once the humans got over their usual need to panic and make a fuss, they did the only other thing they were always good at: surviving. And to survive, they needed help. 

When the idea was put forth that vampires should try out for the fledgling Jaeger program, Mitchell was among the first to volunteer. After all, his second-in-command, Ivan, could take care of the UK covens well enough on his own, and a King of vampires in the PPDC would inspire others to join and behave. So he, along with a Caribbean vampire king, the Russian vampire queen's lieutenant, and a few others of mixed rank joined the Jaeger program as their first non-human subjects. Through trial and error, it was found out that vampires possessed the same ability to pilot Jaegers as humans; in fact, they were incredibly good at it. Physically, they were superior to humans as pilots, but mentally, they had more trouble drifting with another person, vampire, human, or otherwise. Their memories were longer and full of such horrors that most humans couldn't drift with them without going mad or becoming too scared to function properly. If they were linked with other vampires or supernaturals, it became more likely that they would chase the rabbit. Only a few vampires from that first group made it in to become full-fledged pilots, Mitchell among them. 

Notable for his perfect simulation record, everyone from the freshest pilots to the relative veterans wanted to test their drift compatibility with the vampire. The Kwoon room was a hotspot of activity for several weeks as everyone from recruits to seasoned pilots battled the tireless vampire. But for some reason, despite (or perhaps, because of) his perfect record in simulations and flawless skills, Mitchell couldn't find a partner. So, until a new batch of recruits could graduate, the PPDC put him in charge of training at the Manila Shatterdome. And that's where he stayed for two years, never finding a co-pilot. He thought life would continue this way, until yet another class of graduates emerged, and a call was sent out for tryouts for their partners. Mitchell almost didn't attend, but his roommate and best friend George finally egged him into going. So the vampire headed up to Anchorage, not expecting much of anything, until one morning he snuck into the hopefully empty Kwoon room to train...

* * *

Anders Johnson was born 22 years before the first Kaiju made landfall. He was born to a nice, normal family in New Zealand...only, they weren't normal, and they weren't nice. The abnormality came from the whole family being mortal vessels for gods and goddesses of the Norse pantheon. The lack of niceness came from an abusive set of parents. He and his three brothers learned to survive on their own while their father ran away to the sea and their mother ignored them in favor of becoming a plant (a tree, to be precise). Despite this terrible situation, he and his brothers made do, and it could have been worse, really. Then Anders grew up. 

What had once been a fond, if often exasperated, camaraderie between him and Mike died when Mike ran off with Coma Rob and Valerie, leaving Anders to raise his two younger siblings on his own. He was still a kid himself, and he'd been there for Mike, so why wasn't Mike there for him? But he did his best, which apparently wasn't enough, because when Mike finally did come back, he did nothing but berate Anders for how he'd "ruined" Axl and Ty (who were, in fact, very good kids, if a bit spoiled, because Anders was a softie at heart and he loved his little brothers and gave them everything he could, including his own food). So Anders took his turn to run off, and he didn't come back for a very long time. 

When he did come back, he came back as a god. He'd been left to deal with being Bragi on his own, Mike only giving him a vague explanation of things and referring him to Olaf, their eternally-high cousin who was actually their grandfather and the mortal vessel of Baldr. After a very strange briefing from his grandfather, Anders left. He deserved his own life, his own happiness, and he was going to find it. So he built his own life, working for a public relations firm after leaving college. And while he missed his family constantly, he knew that he was better off without them (or rather, they were better off without him, that nasty little Valerie-shaped voice in the back of his head sneered). Anders worked and fucked his way through life, playing as hard as he worked, and he enjoyed it.

Then Trespasser destroyed the northern California coastline, and a nuclear bomb was detonated in an urban area for the first time since the last world war. And suddenly, everything changed. 

New Zealand wasn't in the direct line of fire for the kaijus, everyone found out as the Kaiju War progressed. But that didn't stop many from panicking and heading for Australia, which they figured was safer than their smaller island nation. They were wrong. It took years for all the refugees to begin pouring in, but once they did, New Zealand was playing host to survivors of the Sydney attacks who couldn't bear to be on Australia anymore. Anders had been among those who had moved to Australia, not because he was scared, but because his PR firm had been hired to create awareness campaigns after the Manila attack. He'd been there in Sydney when Scissure attacked, watching as the giant monster tore through humanity's defenses. It had changed him. 

When the Jaeger program was announced and a call for recruits went out, he was ready to answer the call. He planned on joining the LOCCENT teams, knowing that Bragi would make a good communicator and would help him keep things organized and smooth. He enlisted, hearing through the grapevine (read: Olaf) that his brothers were joining the fight too. Ty and Axl were heading for the construction yards to work on the Jaegers while Mike was on his way to becoming a ranger already. That's when the world was thrown for a new loop: it seems that all the scary monsters from the horror stories he'd seen as a kid were real. Vampires, ghosts, werewolves, they were all real. It took him less time to grasp this concept than he'd taken with the kaiju, but it was still strange. He found out that his boss was in fact a werewolf, and that his Bragi powers still worked on supernaturals. So, with the reassurance that not only did they have extra manpower (if you could call it that), but that his powers weren't ineffective on this new breed of warrior, Anders went to get his PPDC applications.

Then Jack happened. Jack, the vessel of Apollo, in order to save the reputation of his co-pilot, exposed the pantheons to the world. Much like with the supernaturals, there had been whispers among the gods and goddesses of simply stepping forward and letting the world know of their whereabouts. Being a god of words, Anders had heard all these rumors and dismissed them. If there was one thing he knew about gods, it was that they were inherently selfish beings, and the vessels were just the same. There were few exceptions to that rule, and he was not among them, even though he knew deep down that he wasn't as selfish as he made himself seem. So when he finally handed in his application, he was able to mark himself down as a god. And that, it seems, is what changed his life forever.

Since gods and goddesses had already proven they were able to complete Jaeger pilot training the same as other humans and supernaturals, there was no long trial and error period like with the vampires. The only setback was the notion that, if a god or goddess drifted with someone, the other pilot would not only see the memories of the vessel, but of the deity themselves. This was soon proven false, as the records showed that those paired with hitherto unknown vessels hadn't even noticed that their partner was otherworldly. Jack had only slipped up by letting Graciela, his co-pilot, see his initiation ceremony. Now the members of pantheons were called upon to join the PPDC and its various branches: builders and creators were soon being sent to the construction yards, healers to medical wards, thinkers and philosophers to the K-Science labs, messengers to the LOCCENT, and warriors and strategists to the Academy to become pilots. 

Bragi, as the god of poetry, was a master of words, allowing Anders to see through any lie and convince others to do what they dared not do before. He could have been great as a high-ranking officer, since his orders would not dare be disobeyed by a reluctant pilot. But that wasn't to be, because not long after he signed on to the PPDC, he was invited to join the Academy and train to become a pilot. At first, he was reluctant, if only because Mike was there, but he soon learned that while Mike was in fact an officer, he'd been cut from the second stage of training. Eager to prove to his brother that he wasn't a failure, that he wasn't a brat or something far worse, Anders agreed. And even though he'd initially joined for rather selfish reasons, he soon rose to the top of his class. He became a master of strategy, learning everything there was to know about Jaegers, Kaijus, and how to fight. He advanced through the first stage, then the second stage, and upon completing the third stage of training, was among only four pilots to graduate in his class at the Academy. 

The training had turned Anders into a strong, dedicated pilot. Sure, he could still wine and sex it up with the best of them, but he had a purpose now, and training to ground him. He grew up to become one of the most promising prospects of his generation of pilots. Anders was physically fit, intelligent, quick-witted, and eager to fight the monsters he'd seen tear up Sydney and ruin the lives of so many. He had a bone to pick with the Kaiju, but unlike many others, there wasn't as much trauma in his head from his encounters. That made him motivated but not dangerous and reckless, like some pilots. So when it came time to find him a co-pilot, pilots and recruits from near and far converged upon Anchorage to find their co-pilots. His classmates quickly found their matches, and were almost immediately sent off to Shatterdomes around the pacific to being given their Jaegers and assignments. It took longer for Anders, as the days turned into a week, he despaired of ever finding a partner. His strength was intelligence, not brute force, and he had yet to meet a pilot who could balance him out while still holding true to themselves. Anders began to grow worried.

And then he met someone on a cold day in the Kwoon, one week after his graduation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders is about my age in this fic, since I was born in 1991. It just makes it easier for me to keep track of it. It comes up later in the story~ So at the end of this chapter, when he graduates, it's 2017, so he's 26. Mitchell's physical age is 24, and his actual age is 124 at the end of this chapter. I'll keep you up to date on ages, dates, and other minutiae down here! 
> 
> Anders' Age: 26
> 
> Mitchell's Age: 124 (Appears to be 24)


	3. War Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mornings in Anchorage are cold. The metal of the Shatterdome is colder. A vampire's skin is often the coldest of them all. 
> 
> Gods smell different. Blondes from New Zealand will often miss the sun. Solitude is hard to find when you're in a Shatterdome. 
> 
> The fight that brings them together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, sweethearts! I've been hella busy and the muse wanted to strike but I tended to be falling over into bed at that point so the muse had to wait. I'm going to try to build up some chapters to post, but as always, life is hella busy and it's a fickle bitch to deal with, so my promises may be delayed. Thank you all for sticking with me! Reviews and comments make the Lioness very happy!

Mitchell had snuck into the Kwoon room at around 7am. While the room was technically already open, most didn’t start using it until after breakfast, which was at 7:30am. Since the vampire didn’t need to eat human food (and had fed on some synthetic blood yesterday), he figured he could get some private training time under his belt before facing the day. He wasn’t particularly fond of cold places; he was already cold and dead, he didn’t need a reminder of that. The coldest place he could usually stand was Ireland, since its greenery more than made up for the cool, rainy days it was famous for. Anchorage made his skin crawl, and he ached to get back to warm, sunny Manila as soon as possible (and that was saying something, since sun hurt him worse than cold ever could, but he figured it was the sacrifice he made for not being in the snow constantly). 

Dressed in just sweats and a sleeveless shirt, he did his stretches to warm his body up as best he could. One thing most people didn't know about vampires was that being in the freezing cold slowed their bodies down, quite literally. Their already cool muscles cooled even further in freezing climates, and since they didn't produce heat like living beings, the dead musculature became difficult to use faster. It wasn’t crippling by any means, but it meant mobility was low until the muscles had been stretched. On top of that, Mitchell sometimes forgot to breathe when he was fighting, and that put him also could put him at a disadvantage. While vampire muscles didn't technically didn't need air, the boost of oxygen was like adding NOS to a race car. So he added on deep-breathing exercises as he moved his body. A few years in Tibet and China had taught him how to use breathing as an extra tool in combat. Soon enough, he was warmed up and his muscles were as loose and ready as they would ever be. Standing, he grabbed a staff and began practicing forms. 

Having lived for over a century, Mitchell had been given lots of time to learn several different forms of combat. It kept him occupied, and made him a formidable force among the supernaturals. Most of the styles were things that he’d never have been able to learn if he’d remained a human and lived through the war: over the years, he became a master of Xiaolin kung fu, savate, tai chi, krav maga, and boxing. He’d learned many of these styles from other vampires, ones who’d pushed him to his limits and made him the warrior he was today. A vampire in London had even taught him fencing and staff fighting; the vampire in question had been a stuntwoman in her mortal life, and had been well-known for her skill in weapons of all kinds. Because of this, the PPDC hadn’t needed to teach him much in the way of hand-to-hand combat when he’d entered the program, making him a valuable asset. In each of his simulations, his mixture of fluidity of motion and overwhelming strength and force had lead him to destroy every simulated kaiju he’d faced. The only disadvantage of being inherently better at fighting than almost every other pilot was that it made him difficult to find a partner for. 

Speaking of other pilots, a waft of fresh air hit his keen nose. He always knew the moment someone else entered. A human, by the smell of them, had just come in from the locker room. Wait…no, not a human. A god. Interesting. The pantheon members smelled mostly like human, except their scent was tinged with an ancient power that was easily missed by even werewolves if you weren’t looking for it. Their blood, while edible, could be overwhelming to younger vampires, so most avoided snacking on them. Mitchell finished his form, a complicated swing-and-flip combination that he’d picked up in Manila a few weeks ago. He was still getting the hang of it, but to most onlookers it seemed like he’d invented the damn move, he was so fluid. Another advantage of vampirism, he’d said with a shrug to those who asked. Turning, he looked at the human, smiling politely at the petit blonde man staring back at him.

Anders Johnson looked rather splendid in the early morning light filtering down through the skylights. He'd always loved those large glass panels, ever since he'd first come to Anchorage. Most Shatterdomes had little to nothing in the way of nice windows outside; a necessary precaution, but it still made life inside dreary and confining. The blonde was still used to New Zealand's wonderful weather, and he liked to come to the Kwoon room just to bask in the weak Alaskan light every now and then. He was often joined by other recruits and pilots, sometimes forming a little circle of sunbathers, to the point where they had an unofficial little club. Anders had come to the room to catch a little of the weak sunlight filtering through the thick layer of clouds, knowing that most people were still at breakfast. It surprised him to see another in his private space (he considered the pre-breakfast Kwoon room  _his_ , and since so few used it that early, it seemed as if the Shatterdome agreed with him), but he shook it off. He offered an equally polite smile, dropping his jacket on a bench and stepping onto the mat. 

"'Morning." He said quietly, eyeing the man in front of him. Anders was good at reading people, but this man would prove to be difficult. 

"G'mornin'..." Mitchell's accent tended to be thicker in the morning. Without even noticing it, they had begun circling each other, evaluating, calculating. It seemed to flow naturally from them.

"What's a vampire doing in here this early? I thought most of you lot stuck together around here..." There was no malice, no prejudice in his voice, just curiosity. Mitchell raised an eyebrow at the man's blunt nature, but found it refreshing from the usually overly-polite humans and flighty ghosts and werewolves. 

"Trainin'. That  _is_  the point o'this place, isn't it?" Mitchell smirked, his grin growing wider as the blonde returned his grin. "An' the vampires 'round here are borin'. I'm just bidin' time 'til I get back t'Manila."

"Ah, so you  _are_  John Mitchell. Figured it was you, all tall and dark and broody. Would've figured you for someone who stuck to the shadows, all mysterious-like." Anders chuckled, grabbing a staff as he made a pass by the racks. Their circle had grown wider, but when he grabbed a staff, it began to tighten again. 

"And you must be Anders Johnson. They tol' me y'were likely to show up. But someone was goin' on about Byrd's cinnamon porridge, and the whole place seemed t'light up. Thought you'd be over in the commissary, eatin' up with everyone else." He had no idea who Byrd was, but he figured Byrd was the Shatterdome's cook. Cinnamon was rare in the North, far from where it was grown, and had become a delicacy on par with chocolate and real coffee. 

"I don't like cinnamon. I prefer sweeter things myself." He twirled his staff easily, eyeing the vampire again, this time with a hint of playfulness in his gaze. As they spoke, their circling slowed significantly as the human went through his stretches, still moving, just at a more sluggish pace. Mitchell would practice a form or two as the blonde stretched. "There's enough heat in Auckland, why bother adding more?" 

"True enough. I've been there once m'self, ages ago. The 1960's, I think. 'S a nice place." The vampire should have found it strange that they talked so easily, but he thought nothing of it, instead watching the petit man warm up. It was unusual that he fell into casual conversation with someone he'd never met before; oftentimes he was charming but distant until he'd evaluated the other speaker thoroughly. They bantered back and forth a bit more, each unthinkingly slipping in casual bits of information about themselves. Mitchell's hometown, Anders' old pet Carmelita, things like that, things friends shared, not total strangers. 

"Okay, I think that's enough stretching. Care to spar? They'll be sending in another batch of eager young faces almost as beautiful as my own soon. Trying to partner me up with someone quickly, sounds like." Anders rolled his shoulders back, coming into a loose stance. 

"Aye, they did that t'me too, a few years ago. Didn' find anyone, though." Mitchell also found himself sliding into a stance, limbs easily moving into the proper position without his own conscious thought. Said crowd chose that moment to walk through the doors, and the two men stood, broken out of their little bubble by the noise. The commander came in, looking at the two of them, an eyebrow raised. She looked at her notepad, then shrugged. 

"All right, ladies and gentlemen. Slight change in order. I  _was_  going to have you test with Mr. Mitchell fifth, Mr. Johnson, but since you're already there, let's get started." Her shoes clicked on the hard ground as she moved to the head of the training floor, where she could see the matches. Mitchell nodded at her, noting that Anders did the same. 

"All right, ma'am." The blonde said, turning back towards Mitchell. The room went quiet, all whisperings about the change in order and general gossip dying down so they could watch two legends at work. Even though he was fresh out of the Academy, Anders was noted for his strategic ability, and Mitchell was probably the best fighter the Academy ever had and ever will produce. To say that this match was highly anticipated was an understatement. At the very least, it would provide a lot of entertainment for the onlookers. As many as could fit crowded inside and just inside the doorways of the Kwoon room, peeking around each other to see. 

The blonde and the brunet took their stances again, a line of tension in their bodies that wasn't there before. The easy air of a few minutes ago was gone; this was a serious affair and would be treated as such. They stared each other down for a moment, and then, as if by unspoken agreement, began circling each other again. Their movements were slow, tentative, then smoother, more languid. If they'd looked up at the commander, they would have seen her furiously scribbling notes. Their focus, however, was on each other. As one, they lunged, the sound of wood on wood clacking through the still air of the Kwoon room. Anders ducked a swipe to the head, rolling with it to aim at Mitchell's leg. The taller man blocked it easily and used his momentum to aim for the blonde's shoulder. As the bout continued, each and every blow was blocked or avoided. Neither man made a hit, and no points were scored. 

In the relatively short time since the Jaeger program's inception, several experts had already come up with different types of pilot pairings. Siblings, best friends, couples, cousins, all of them were capable of producing solid piloting pairs. Certain types of people made for certain types of pairings, and each, while inherently equal, worked in different ways. The same went for the testing bouts between potential co-pilots. Several different kinds of fights had already been observed by scientists and psychologists studying the pilots inside the Jaeger program, and patterns had been noted. Siblings often fought viciously, sometimes tapping on sibling rivalry, which would bring out the best in each. Best friends tended to aid the other, giving up points to make sure their numbers stayed even. Familial pairings that weren't siblings moved as if they'd practiced their bouts several times. Random strangers who somehow were compatible often struggled at first, then moved into a smooth rhythm. But perhaps the most interesting of all were the couples, the romantic pairings, or those destined to become romantically attached. Their bouts moved like a dance, an intimate thing, so intimate that sometimes just watching them made you blush, even if nothing inappropriate happened. It was more like a waltz than a fight, smoothly moving together. The Kaidonovsky's, although rugged and tough, had demonstrated this time and again. Their fight had been slow and measured, as if they'd been moving to some unseen music rather than the clack of wood on wood. 

The same thing was happening to Mitchell and Anders. 

Even as their movements grew faster and more intricate, the duo never stopped or faltered, neither scoring a point on the other. Unless they were turning or flipping (in Mitchell's case), they never broke eye contact. They didn't even look at their feet, or glance at the other's staff as they fought. By now though, it was hard to call it a fight; their bout had become more of a strange dance, mesmerizing and intense. After five minutes of neither party scoring a hit, the commander had seen enough. She'd been there to witness the Kaidonovsky's bout, as well as a few others. Mitchell and Anders followed the same pattern, a pattern that had yet to produce anything but some of the best Jaeger pilots the program had seen to date. She clapped her hands twice, calling the match to a halt. The two men were face-to-face, mere centimeters separating them as they halted mid-step. Dazedly, they blinked and shook themselves out of their trance and turned to the commander. They stood at attention, Anders breathing a little bit harder than the vampire, naturally. 

"I think we've all seen enough." The commander grinned knowingly at the two. Neither of them got it, but they would, eventually. "Anders Johnson, John Mitchell, say hello to your new co-pilot. And members of the PPDC, welcome your newest team, the pilots of Noble Renegade!" 

Anders and Mitchell stood stock still for a moment as the cheers of the crews, recruits, and other pilots all but shook the Kwoon room's walls. In the midst of the cacophony, a blonde head turned to a brunet one. Nothing was said; nothing needed to be said. Blue eyes sparkled with glee, and brown eyes were an odd mix of relief and curiosity. As they lurched forwards from the slaps on their backs and the handshakes of their future crew made their hands sore, their eyes rarely left each other's. 

And inside a hangar in Long Beach, a royal purple Jaeger waited, silent and cold, ready to fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders' Age: 26
> 
> Mitchell's Age: 124 (Appears to be 24)
> 
> Year: 2017


End file.
